Desperate Measures
by Tedronai
Summary: Asmodean Lives AU. Picks up directly after Loyalty. Taim wants to prevent Rand from sneaking off to get himself killed again. Rand wants to sneak off to kill Sammael. Asmodean wishes everybody would just chill.


Mazrim Taim strode in through the gateway, the Asha'man called Estevan Marle at his heels. "Has he woken up?" Taim asked without preamble. When Asmodean shook his head, he grimaced. "At least that means he hasn't run off to get himself killed again."

Asmodean chuckled despite himself. "I believe Miss Farshaw would have something to say if he tried."

"I suppose she would," Taim said wryly. "She'd with him?" He barely waited for the answering nod before he went on. "You remember Asha'man Marle?"

"Indeed I do," Asmodean replied. "In full uniform this time, I see."

Marle flashed a lopsided grin. "And you, master bard, have acquired a new coat."

"Several, in fact," Asmodean said. "I just wear them one at a… time…" He trailed off, cringing internally at the attempt at humour. There was a reason he didn't usually do jokes; he'd do well to remember it.

"…If you two are done comparing wardrobes?" Taim interjected. Marle put on a suitably chastised look, but Asmodean had the feeling that it seemed to be hiding an amused smirk. If Taim was aware of this — and Asmodean wasn't going to assume anything else — he ignored it, at least for now. Instead he turned to Asmodean. "Do you know the city well?"

"Well enough not to get lost," Asmodean replied. "Why?"

"There's a wine merchant called Harvin in the inner city, not too far from the Palace; he's one of my contacts in the city—"

"You have spies in Caemlyn," Asmodean said blankly.

Taim shot him an irritable look. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Well, no, but—"

"In that case, if you would be so kind as to let me finish?" Taim didn't wait for confirmation; he nodded towards Marle and continued, "Marle will be taking up a room above Harvin's shop for now. If al'Thor vanishes again, or anything else happens that he doesn't deem it necessary to inform me about but you think I should know… Any message you give to Marle will be brought to me immediately, at any hour of the day."

Asmodean stared at him. "That's… that's convenient," he managed eventually.

Taim flashed a wry almost-smile. "That's the point," he said. "We need a communication channel if we're to keep him alive to reach the bloody Tarmon Gai'don." He turned to Marle again. "You may leave. I'll see you again once I'm done here. Give Harvin my instructions in the meanwhile."

Marle saluted briskly and left through another gateway, leaving Asmodean alone with Taim.

For a moment Asmodean watched the other man in silence. Outwardly Taim was… well, Taim; in charge, radiating competence and confidence and inexhaustible energy. Taim had a presence that dominated the space he was in, Taim drew the eye and made crowds part probably even without his dark reputation. It was oddly reassuring when you were on the same side, Asmodean reflected; the effect was likely the opposite on his enemies. Yet somehow…

"Is something wrong?" he asked, hesitantly, not wanting to look like an idiot if he had misread any part of the situation — if nothing truly was wrong or if his tentative friendship with Taim wasn't yet at a point where such a question would be acceptable — but he didn't think he had.

Taim looked almost startled. "You mean aside from the fact that we don't know if the Dragon Reborn is going to live?"

"He will," Asmodean replied by rote. "They all say he's recovering. Well," he hurried to amend, "Flinn says that if he was going to die from this he would have already." He let out a slightly nervous laugh; he liked Damer Flinn well enough, but the man was just completely incapable of lying convincingly. "The Aes Sedai don't appreciate his input, of course. After all, he only did what none of them could ever have dreamt of; what does he know?"

Taim snorted. "I wish I could say I'm surprised." He sighed and looked towards the door that led to al'Thor's bedroom. "You say you taught al'Thor," he said after a while, sounding oddly hesitant.

"I did," Asmodean replied warily. "Well, it's sort of an on-going process. Every now and then something still comes up that…" He trailed off; this was irrelevant. He cleared his throat and revised his approach. "How come?"

Taim seemed not to notice his verbal stumbling. "What precisely did you teach him?" he asked.

Asmodean blinked. "What, do you want a list of weaves?" He instantly regretted his snappish tone; to say that the topic made him uncomfortable would have been an understatement. "I'm sorry. It would be… considerably easier if you just told me what it is you're after."

After a pause that seemed slightly too long, Taim spoke again. "Do you know how to ward dreams?"

Relieved that the question was so harmless, one that he could answer honestly, Asmodean hurried to reply, "Yes, I can teach—" He cut off as the implications of the question sank in. "Is… there a reason you're asking?" he asked cautiously. Taim said nothing, which in itself all but confirmed Asmodean's fears. "Mazrim, this is important," he tried again, a frantic tone creeping into his voice.

"Nobody calls me that," Taim snapped, but the anger in his voice was a distracted sort.

"I don't care," Asmodean replied. That was not exactly true — he did care and on some level he was curious to know more, but for the purposes of the topic at hand it was irrelevant. "Please, just answer me."

Again Taim hesitated before speaking. "It may be safer if you don't know," he said slowly. "Safer for you."

If there had been any doubt before, now there were none. Asmodean felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. He should have expected this; he should have expected the Chosen — the other Chosen — to try and use Taim and the Black Tower. There was still the matter of Osan'gar, who had not made another appearance since that night after Dumai's Wells. Asmodean should have seen this coming, he should have prepared for this somehow.

Some of his fear must have shown on his face, because then Taim spoke again. "I'll deal with this," he said, a picture of unfailing confidence and reassurance. Asmodean could almost see him facing down one of the Chosen. Asmodean could almost see him surviving the encounter. "Just teach me."

Before Asmodean could say anything, however, there was a commotion in the other room. He looked at Taim, who looked back in perfect understanding; either al'Thor had woken up… or died. Several moments passed. Then the door opened, and a group of Aes Sedai marched out of the bedroom, followed by another group of Wise Ones. Several of the Aes Sedai shot frosty looks at Taim as they passed, but for once Taim ignored them completely. He barely waited until they were gone before striding into the bedroom, Asmodean close at his heels.

They found al'Thor with Min Farshaw, Damer Flinn, Jahar Narishma and Jonan Adley. Al'Thor was out of bed and almost fully dressed — neither of which, Asmodean was relatively sure, he shouldn't have been. His face darkened as he saw Taim and Asmodean; it seemed to Asmodean as though the look he gave him implied that he should have somehow kept Taim away, although how he could possibly have done that, he had not the foggiest idea.

"Taim," al'Thor said, his voice equal parts irritation and challenge. "What are you doing here?"

"I hope to stop you from doing anything exceedingly stupid," Taim replied, looking pointedly at the boots al'Thor was in the process of pulling on. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Illian," al'Thor said curtly.

The silence following the statement was so chilly Asmodean was almost surprised he didn't feel the room temperature drop several degrees. "Flinn, Narishma, Adley; leave us," Taim commanded. The two younger men moved towards the door, but Flinn looked at al'Thor for confirmation, and as the others noticed this, they stopped as well, looking faintly embarrassed.

Al'Thor was giving Taim a look that would have made most men tremble in fear. "They'll stay," he said quietly. "Whatever you have to say, Taim, you can say in their presence."

"If my Lord Dragon says so." Taim's voice was taut with anger, promising a storm, and Asmodean wondered once again what he had done wrong to always land in the position of witnessing potentially deadly clashes between titans. "You're in no condition to run off to face Sammael," Taim continued. "I have no idea what you're hoping to accomplish by throwing yourself at him when you can barely stand, and frankly, _my lord_, I don't give a damn! You're playing with the fate of the world, going against any one of the Forsaken alone, and doing so before you're fully recovered is pure hare-brained lunacy!"

"Taim," al'Thor interjected, but Taim either didn't hear or ignored it.

"I should fetch those Maidens of yours and see what they'd have to say about this plan of yours! I should fetch Cadsuane Sedai back! I should fetch Bashere and have him sit on you; don't think he wouldn't!"

"Taim!" Al'Thor's voice cracked the air like a whip, amplified with a toned-down version of the weave Taim had used at Dumai's Wells. The three Asha'man and Min were staring at the two men, looking varying degrees of alarmed and scandalised; Asmodean was torn between wanting to laugh at the looks on their faces and wanting to hide. But at least now, Taim was listening. "This is not a negotiation," al'Thor said with surprising calm.

"You very damn nearly got yourself killed less than three days ago," Taim went on doggedly, if in a somewhat more reasonable manner. "You've been unconscious for two days. _You're not up to this_."

"I have to be," al'Thor replied. He flashed a humourless grin. "By now, the entire world probably knows that the Dragon Reborn lies dying from a grievous wound. You can count on Sammael having heard. I must move quickly if I'm to catch him unawares. I may never get an opportunity like this again."

Asmodean could see that Taim wanted to argue, but eventually he nodded. "Very well," he said, reluctance clear in his voice. "I'm coming with you."

Now it was time for al'Thor to grudgingly agree. "If you must," he said. "Once we enter Illian, however, you're going to do exactly as I say, with no arguments or improvisation because you think you know better. You'll do as I say, or I will kill you if Sammael doesn't get you first. Am I making myself clear?" Taim nodded. Al'Thor held his gaze for a while longer before turning to Adley. "The army's reached the hillforts in Illian already?" he asked. "How? It should have been several more days at the best. At best."

"The High Lord Weiramon left the foot behind and pressed forward with the horse," the Soldier began, going on to give a brief recount of the events with the army. "Eben and I began destroying the first palisades soon as we arrived. Weiramon didn't much like that; I think he would have stopped us, but he was afraid to. Anyway, we began setting fire to the logs and blowing holes in the walls, but before we more than started, Sammael came. A man channeling _saidin_, at least, and a lot stronger than Eben or me. As strong as you, my Lord Dragon, I'd say."

Al'Thor seemed startled by the last part. "He was there right away? No, go on," he said. "Morr was with you last night?"

Adley nodded. "Yes, my Lord Dragon; Fedwin comes every night, just like he's supposed to. Last night, it was plain as Eben's nose we'd reach the forts today." He hesitated for a moment, but when al'Thor said nothing, he went on, "We can save the army, that's what we can do. Weiramon was still sending charges against that fort when I left, and Sammael cuts every one to rags despite anything Eben or I can do." He shifted the arm with the singed sleeve. "We have to strike back and run immediately, and even so, he nearly burned us where we stood, more than once. The Aiel are taking casualties too. They're only fighting the Illianers who come out—the other hillforts must be emptying, so many were coming when I left—but any time Sammael sees fifty of us together, Aiel or anybody, he rips them apart. If there were three of him, or even two, I'm not sure I'd find anybody alive when I go back."

"Soldier," Taim said with a warning look, but he didn't sound as though he disagreed. Asmodean had the distinct feeling he wouldn't have been too opposed to sending for a couple of hundred Asha'man on the spot.

"Forgive me, M'Hael," Adley muttered, abashed, then added in a still lower voice, "But we can at least save them."

"We will," al'Thor assured him. "You're all going to help me kill Sammael today."

None of the Asha'man appeared daunted by the notion. Asmodean would have thought they were all insane, except that it was a thought that didn't bear thinking about. Min gave a resigned sigh. "I expect you would as soon no one found out you're gone before they have to, sheepherder."

Al'Thor gave her a surprised look; he had probably expected her to argue. "The Maidens will want to come if they know, Min," he said.

Asmodean ignored the rest of the exchange as Taim turned to him, speaking in a low voice, "I want you to go to Marle and let him know what is going on. Not immediately, try not to rouse suspicion, but soon. Tell him, if we're not back by—" He glanced out of the window as if to gauge the time. "An hour past sundown. If I don't send him a message by then, tell him to… Tell him to…" He trailed off in helpless frustration; if things went wrong in Illian, the entire Black Tower could do nothing. "Tell him to take every man who can be trusted to not endanger themselves and others in a battle to Illian and level the city."

"You'll never catch Sammael like that," Asmodean said quietly, not even caring that the subject matter was dangerously close to things he was not supposed to know anything about.

"I know," Taim said. "But if Sammael kills al'Thor, it won't matter, will it?"

Asmodean nodded slowly; if al'Thor died, few things would matter anymore, topmost among them the question of whether Asmodean could find a way to end his life before any of the other Chosen got their hands on him. He made a mental note to find a good, sharp knife before going to Marle. And the courage to actually use it.

"It's not going to come to that," Taim added, sounding very nearly convincing, and Light, but Asmodean wanted to be convinced! Taim placed both hands on Asmodean's shoulders. "Listen to me, Natael. _It's not going to come to that._ But just in case… Can you do this for me?"

Courage, Asmodean thought distractedly, was a curious thing. Taim needed him to do this, and no matter how much he might prefer to crawl into a hole and hide until the Wheel stopped turning, he knew he was going to do what Taim asked of him. "Yes," he breathed.

Then al'Thor was opening a gateway and waving the Asha'man through. Taim released Asmodean and turned to follow. And as he watched the man's back retreating, Asmodean suddenly realised that al'Thor was not the only one who might not come back. "Taim!" he called out just as Taim was about to go through the gateway.

Taim stopped and half turned to look over his shoulder. "Yes?"

Asmodean tried to ignore the fact that besides Taim, everyone else in the room was now staring at him as well. "…Be careful?" he said, feeling the full weight of the ridiculousness of his plea; people who were going to kill a Forsaken were damn well going to be exactly as careful as they could afford, without telling.

Curiously, though, Taim didn't seem to find it ridiculous. A ghost of an almost-smile passed across his lips. "We will, master bard," he said. Then he turned and went through the gateway, al'Thor following after him, and the gateway winked shut behind them.


End file.
